Reviews of books that have held my interest. And things that happen along the way.
I have made it simpler to leave a comment. Just hit the comment selection and choose anonymous at the bottom- Or at my yahoo;
robertrswwilliams@yahoo.com
And let's not forget my friends at the Public Libraries!Most of my selections come from the Libraries listed on my sidebar. They are a great resource and a wonderful use of our tax dollars.
Have you hugged a Librarian today?

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

Du, Wah Diddy - What's In a Name?

This story probably “tells” better than it reads, but for
the sake of posterity; and any sociological implications it may contain; here
goes; I was working for Anthem Corporation, an excavating company based just
outside of Baltimore, as an Estimator in 1988, which is when this story occurs.

It was early Monday morning and we had the usual crowd of
applicants for the positions we had advertised for in the Sunday papers. At
that time, before the widespread use of computers, that’s how people found
work, in the Want Ads. Consequently, Monday mornings brought all kinds of
applicants for the work, the first step being to fill out a simple job
application.

Now, this was no “literacy test” type of thing at all; it
was simply a form asking for your name, address, and contact information, along
with your last 2 employers and an emergency contact. Naturally, the first
question was the applicant’s name. We never got past the first question before
the “trouble” began.

Now, when I say “trouble”, I may be overstating the case a
bit. “What we had here”, as the warden says in the film Cool Hand Luke, “was a
failure to communicate.” To begin, we need to take a look at the time in which
this story takes place.

In the late 1980’s and early 90’s there emerged a “Malcolm
X” craze, in which millions of dollars of clothing stamped with the logo X were
marketed to young African-Americans, some of whom; make that most of whom; had
no idea of what Malcolm X stood for, or were under the impression that Malcolm
died believing in the complete separation of the races. If you have read the
book, or seen the film, then you know that this is completely false. At any
rate, millions were made marketing hats, shirts and jackets emblazoned with the
logo X. No quotation marks, no explanation, just the symbol of an angry young
black male. This was the figure which now stood before me; an angry young black
man; seeking work from “whitey”, “Mr. Charlie”, or what have you. And I’m a Jew
from Brooklyn!

I said “Good morning”, and handed him the application, which
he could not fill out. At that time it was customary for the Estimator to
assist applicants who could not read or write. We were really only interested
in your work history and your name. if you could do the job, you got the job.
Period. But first I needed your name. So, we started on a narrative which I
love to tell, because it underscores the type of polarization which destroys
both sides of any division; even when that division is only held by one side of
the argument.

“What’s your name?” I asked, beginning to fill out the
application for him. He was a tall, thin African-American man; sinewy and
muscular; just right for the position of “rodman” which requires the employee
to move quickly with a measuring pole for the surveyors to take elevations.
Those figures, in turn, tell the bulldozer operator, or excavator operator, to
“cut”, or “fill” in each area of the job site in order to achieve an even
plane. I told you this story “tells” better than it reads….

“Wa Du” came the answer, initiating a bizarre, but funny exchange.
This is the part which makes Ed laugh;

“Wa Du?” I asked,
with an arched eyebrow like Chester Conklin.

“Yeah, that be what my people call me”, he said with
apparent pride.

“Okay”, I said, “but what’s your name?”

“I done tole you, Wa Du”, he said with a bit of defiance in
his voice.

“No”, I said, “You told me a nickname. To put you to work I
need your legal name.”

“You mean my slave name?”

“Look man”, I said, noticing the X ball cap for the first
time, “what does your mother call you?”

“She call me Du, like everyone else.”

Now I was in a real quandary, and getting a bit annoyed. “I
need your full name. What’s your last name, Du or Wah? And if its Du, Wah, then
is your middle name Diddy?”

“I goes by Wah Du. That’s the name I use” he replied.

“No”, I said, firmly, “I need the name on your birth
certificate, the name your mother gave you when you were born. Do you have a
Social Security Card?”

This he produced, quietly and without looking me in the
eye. So, what was the name on the card? Donald James. And, I was suddenly struck, as I looked at the
two “first” names on his Social Security Card, with the thought “Does it really
matter?”